IDontKnow?
by AIs4Awsome
Summary: A girl meets a strange boy in the mens room of a resturant...epic things happen. READ rEVIEW pllleeeasse
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The first thing I did was take a pair of scissors to my hair.

Snip, snip, snip.

It looked good, considering I didn't have any help with the back. The hair –which used to graze the middle of my back - was now cut close to the nape of my neck. Definitely needed some layering though. I picked up the scissors again. You never really realize just how long your hair is till you are able to fill an entire garbage can with it. There was a good three feet of hair in there. Blonde, except for the roots. My hair is naturally a dark brown color. My mom used to call it a rich mocha brown with this kind of sickening pride like, Smell me, I have a kid with coffee colored hair.

To say she wasn't very happy when I started dying it blonde last April is a bit of an understatement. Jason had said I look better as a blonde.

When I was finally finished with the scissors, I took a good, long look in the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing what I had done. I had to admit, it didn't look half as bad as I thought it would. It was really short and layered, with long spiky bangs to balance it out. It was a major difference. I was pleased

From April of junior year to February of senior year, Jason had been drawing a picture of me, but everything was in the wrong place. At least, that's how it felt. When he was drunk at parties, Jason would squeeze my skinny butt and make remarks about my "big ass". He would call me sweet when I was trying to sound mad. He found it amusing to introduce me as "Em, my girlfriend who has no sense of humor." But my fellow cheer leading friends would say I was the funny one.

He met my family and found them "perfectly nice" and "too sentimental" when it's blatantly obvious that both my parents were complete hicks and my older brother was a lazy, smart ass university drop out with the mentality of a sock monkey.

If Jason described me to you, you would never have known it was me. The thing is, after almost exactly one school year of going out with Jason, I started to think that maybe his picture was right and mine was wrong. And then he broke up with me a three weeks before the new semester, and I didn't have a picture at all.

I'm totally not going to lie. The look on Mom's face when she sees me new haircut is a mind-boggling thing to behold.

"Emma -" she says, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Oh my…I didn't - I thought you'd -" She stops, her car keys slipping from her fingers to the black and white tiled kitchen floor.

"Time for a change." I say.

I know what she's thinking. She is thinking I'm taking the Jason break up way too hard and acting like a huge drama queen and I'm doing stupid pointless shit with my hair to get attention or sympathy or whatever. It's such a waste of breath for Mom to say nice things to me, because I can always tell what she's thinking and it's never the same as what she says.

"Yes. A change." She picks up her car keys from the floor and doesn't look at me. "You have such a beautiful face; you look great with short hair." Obviously I had not gone far enough.

"Holy shit!" Jake bursts out when I get in the car.

"Black hair! Em's a Goth!"

"Jake, don't swear. Did you buckle your seat belt?"

"Mom, did you see what Em did to her hair?"

"Yes, Jake, did you buckle?"

Jake rolls his eyes at Mom's nagging.

Twenty years old and the loser can't even be bothered to buckle his seat belt.

"If we're in a head on collision and you die I'm taking your room." I mutter.

"Go to hell, brat." he snaps.

"Don't call your sister a brat." Mom says, checking her already perfectly lined lips in the rearview mirror. Like he hasn't already been calling me brat since I was seven.

Jake ignores Mom.

"Do you seriously think Jason is going to take you back with that hair cut? You look like a lesbian. And not even a hot lesbian. You look like the one that wears the pants in the relationship - if you know what I mean. I don't think Jason's really into - "

"Mom!"

"What, Em?"

As if she didn't know.

"Can't you tell Jake to get a job or something and stop free loading off of you and Dad? And then maybe he'll finally move the hell out."

Mom sighs and says nothing. Instead, she pulls the ugly as fuck family minivan out of the driveway and onto the road.

"FYI, I have a job." Jake hisses.

I roll my eyes. "Working on the farm for Dad doesn't count, jerk off."

"I'm getting paid aren't I? That counts as a job. And at least I have a job, Brat."

I kick the back of the passenger seat knowing it's one of those things that seriously pisses off Jake. I give it another kick, and another. I don't have to wait long to get a reaction from him.

"I swear to God, Em, if you don't fucking stop kicking the seat I'm going to -"

"Jacob, I said don't swear," Mom snaps "and Emma stop kicking the seat. You're giving me a head ache."

I act like I don't hear and go on kicking the back of the seat.

Clearly this would be the longest trip to school ever.

I pause to run my hand over my blue-black, almost-but-not-quite naked hair. Time for a change.

That's what Jason had said to me three weeks ago.

"Time for a change, Em." He wasn't looking at me; he was looking at the vending machine that stands between the locker room entrances by the gym, debating whether or not to risk Coach Payne's wrath and buy a candy bar. Coach Payne has this uber strict rule barring the football players from gaining any weight during the season, unless of course, they're gaining it in muscle.

Just get the M&M's. I thought as I watched him. You always get those. Don't look around for something better or the M&M's will feel bad.

He jingled some loose change in his hand.

"You know, I'm going to football camp for, like, practically all of March Break and then the whole summer."

"Yeah, I know." I said. Some part of me understood right away where this was headed but I dumbly thought I could fight it. "You'll have a great time."

Jason is smart and good at everything, especially football.

"And we're starting university in the Fall." He said. As if I'd forgotten. He gave me a sideways glance. "At least, I am."

I'd decided last month to take a year off after graduation. Jason had been more than a little disgusted when he'd found out that I still had not the slightest clue of what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go or who I wanted to be. The way I figured it, I'd take a year to find myself or whatever before heading off to university.

"Look, they restocked the Kit Kat bars." I said. If I acted like I didn't get it, I could buy myself some time. Stall a bit, play dumb, grab another precious thirty or so seconds of happiness before my perfect world comes crashing down on me.

"Don't you understand what I'm saying?" Jason turned away from the vending machine and started talking louder, like I was suddenly rendered deaf or retarded. "There's only a few months left of high school left before graduation and then I'm going to be away all summer. In the fall I'll be starting at Boston University. The thing is, I think we both want different things and I think we both could use a change."

Jason always knew what was best for me.

"I don't want a change." My voice sounded small.

But he kept talking, as if I hadn't said anything.

"It was fun going out with you. We had some fun, right? You'll have a great couple of months left of high school and a great summer, Em. You'll stay here and sort your shit or whatever."

I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking I was too boring, too safe, too…virginal for him. I knew from the way he's pressured me ever since junior year that he'd wanted to lose his v-card to me before heading off to university. After a nearly a whole year of getting pretty much nothing, he knew I wasn't going to be the girl he'd lose it to. Every time he'd tried I was either not ready to take that step, or I had my period or I wasn't on the pill or my parents were in the other room or Violet might walk in on us or oh look, there's a documentary on about hamster breeding in Alaska. Excuses. He was done with excuses.

Jason wanted some gorgeous, bleach blonde, been there, done that, ambitious varsity cheer leading captain who would worship his every move; not some sarcastic, fake blonde, small town, sub-par high school cheer leader who didn't know what the hell she was going to do with her life.

It's not like he hadn't tried to turn me into that. He always liked pulling strings from behind the scenes. He was always concerned with people "images". He would tell me my "image" needed work. I never really knew what he meant by it, except that obviously he was somehow disappointed in me. It had been his idea to dye my hair blonde, so I'd fit the classic high school cheerleader/popular star football player's girlfriend image. More or less, it was a stereo type that, try as I might, I could never quite fit into.

I was always too sarcastic, not perky enough, too unfocused about school and my future, too distracted or unmotivated to fully dedicate myself to cheer leading and being the perfect perky blonde trophy girlfriend Jason had always wanted.

Time for a change, Jason was saying. But I knew what he was really thinking was, I tried to make you into the perfect girlfriend, one that I'd be proud of, but it didn't work. I guess you just don't have what it takes.

To the rest of the small town of Promise, Massachusetts, three weeks had passed since the breakup, but in my own personal space continuum I was still standing there in the gym, watching Jason walk away from the vending machine while his unspoken words took up permanent residence in my brain

I did my best but you just couldn't cut it, Em. That's why it's time for a change.

It's hard to hear anything else.

Case in point: Jake is shouting at me to stop kicking his goddamn seat, but I don't hear him at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The first person at school to approach me about my new hair is none other than my best friend and fellow cheer leader, Maris.

"What the fuck did you do to your hair?" Maris snaps, grabbing my arm and literally dragging me into the second floor girl's bathroom minutes before the first bell.

The bathroom reeks of cheap floral perfume, Mr. Clean and the faint yet ever present smell of weed.

"Like it?" I ask, breaking away from her grasp and giving a little twirl.

"You…you…" She tries but fails. "You butchered it." she says finally.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say butchered…but yeah, I changed it."

"Em, why, why, WHY would you do that to your hair? You look like Adam Lambert and not in a good way."

Figures Maris would compare my new look to a gay, emo American Idol winner. Or was he a runner up? Whatever, same diff.

"It's a little drastic, don't you think? I mean, you had all that blonde hair and now -"

"Oh, please." I say with a slightly over the top eye roll. "You sound like my mom. And FYI did you ever consider that, you know, maybe I actually kind of, sort of like it?"

"I liked you better as a blonde."

I scowl, thinking of Jason without meaning to.

"So? I like it and that's what matters, right? Who cares if I do random shit with my hair as long as I like it?"

"I guess so."

But Maris isn't convinced. I can tell by the way she's gaping at my newly dyed head with a combination of doubt and horror. I gotta admit, it's starting to make me uncomfortable.

"You do know you'll probably get kicked off the cheer leading squad when Ms. K sees what you've done to your hair."

"Actually, I was considering quitting anyway."

"What?"

I shrug. "Why not? I only joined 'cause Jason wanted me to and since we're not dating anymore why not just drop the whole cheer leader thing? I think I'm going to go to the office at lunch and ask if I can talk to Ms. K about quitting."

"Are you out of your fucking mind, woman?"

The look on Maris' face is that of total revulsion, like instead of voluntarily quitting the squad, I'd suddenly offered to dump a bucket of black widows over my head. Maris' entire life is cheerleading. No doubt she'd rather chop her own arm off than quit the squad.

Let me tell you a little somethin' somethin' about my good friend Maris. Maris, beautiful Maris, with the long naturally blonde hair, the C38 rack, the big Angelina Jolie lips, the thing for dudes twice her age. She has Cheer Leading Captain/Girlfriend to the School Star Quarterback written all over her. She's not a Big Disappointment, Plain Jane, flannel-and-t-shirt-wearing, straight-edge, potty-mouth bitch chick with the God-awful DIY haircut and dye job like me. Maris didn't have a boyfriend who dumped her two weeks before the first day of second semester.

"Em, you cant quit." She practically moans "We need you on the squad. I need you."

"No, Maris, the squad doesn't need me. I mean, I don't know how I even made the squad in the first place."

And for the record, I'm not being modest. I legit honest-to-Baby-Jesus have no idea how I made the squad. I'm uncoordinated, I have a fear of heights and I suck at following a routine. Sad but true. Seriously. I'm such a huge epic fail of a cheer leader that there were rumors circulating around school that I'd gone so far as to sleep with Coach Payne, just so I could snare a highly coveted position on the squad (which, for the record, is totally untrue. Maris might have a thing for older dudes but that sure as hell doesn't mean that I do too). The only reason why I stuck with the whole cheer leading thing for so long was because of Jason. And that is it, amigo.

"But Em - " Maris pleads, widening her long-lashed baby blues, giving me her best sad, lost puppy dog look. Which, I would like to add, is pretty pathetic.

"Maris, if you're eyes get any bigger you could star in your own Disney movie."

Maris opens her mouth to argue but is cut off when that stupid bitch Courtney bangs the bathroom door open and comes sashaying in. She's doing her Courtney strut with her big boobs sticking out in front of her, wiggling her ass in that way that gets the attention of every dumb shmuck in her wake. What I want to know is; how the hell did she know me and Maris were in this bathroom? There's two bathrooms on every floor and there's three floors which basic math indicates there are a grand total of six Girl's bathrooms in the entire school. Out of all six bathrooms, she just has to walk into this one. Does she have lookouts with text pagers set up everywhere Maris and I go in this school or what?

"Ohmigod, Em! What did you, like, do to your hair?"

The bitch should not be let out during the day. As if her language is not enough indication, there is also the matter of her skank-tastic outfit. Black leather mini skirt (which totally violates the school dress code in every possible way), blinding pink pumps and ripped mass-produced "vintage" Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt. She looks like she just stepped out of a Ke$ha music video.

"You look, like, emo now."

Okay, I know you probably think I'm being just a little bit harsh with this chick but you don't know the history. I'll give you a quick run down, the spark notes edition, if you will. Pretty much Maris, Courtney, and me used to all be best friends, going way back; all the way back to the time of crayons, afternoon naps and back packs with Disney princess's on them. We were all best friends, that is, until Courtney began to have this totally obvious infatuation with Jason last year, only Jason shut her down 'cause he (for God knows what reason) decided to date me instead. So Courtney somehow got it into her extension filled head that I - and I quote - "stole" Jason from her. She's been a total back stabbing super skank ever since. Me and Maris like to joke that we should get a restraining order against her except Courtney provides too much amusement for us to fully let her out of out of reach just yet. It's like a love-hate thing we have going with her. I hate her for pretty much starting the whole "Em stole Jason from me wahhhh!" rumor last year but love her 'cause let's face it; the bitch can offer up some quality entertainment. Courtney likes to think that she's still one of us since she's into the same music as me and Maris and is also on the cheer leading squad. We've let her be Two and a Half on occasions; she does have a good radar for the best parties and gigs, even if odds are she'll end up getting totally wasted and make a complete fool out of herself by dancing like an idiot by the end of the night. But get Courtney alone and she's normal, at least tolerable, almost but not quiet back to the way she used to be, before she started trying so hard to be Miss Popular Mind-Fuck. Still, it doesn't mean we're considering ever welcoming her back into our twosome as the long lost best friend turned jealous slut. We don't feel too guilty about it because there's only five months of high school left and I can't imagine us ever seeing each other again after our "have a great summer, good luck with college" phony sentiment yearbook finales.

"It was time for a change," I say, glancing at my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. I don't know why the fuck everyone is making such a big deal about it. I think my new look suits me.

Courtney shoots me a confused look.

"Is this 'cause of, like, Jason? 'Cause no offense, but I don't really think he's into emo chicks."

As usual, the bitch gets it all wrong.

"Em isn't emo." Maris snaps. "And what she did to her hair has nothing to do with Jason. When you're heart broken, you rent "Titanic", have a good cry and drown your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Not get a hideously unflattering haircut and dye job."

Even as she says it, I'm not convinced that Maris actually believes it.

"Whatever." says Courtney, pulling out a tube of lip gloss from her gigantic faux leather bag. She is somehow able to smear the frosted pink gloss over her pouted lips while saying, "Seems like it has something to do with Jason. I mean, c'mon, it's been, like, three weeks. Are you still not over him yet?"

This is so typical Courtney. The longest relationship she's ever been in lasted a grand total of one month, and technically speaking, it wasn't even really a relationship. They were, for lack of a better term, fuck buddies. Courtney is the absolute last person who should be preaching about the appropriate amount of time it takes to get over one's ex.

"I am over him." I lie.

Maris shoots me one of her patented "yeah whatever, bitch" looks.

"You guys dated for how many months?" she asks.

"Ten."

"Then you're allowed exactly ten days to grieve, one day for every month you went out. After that, you're not allowed to so much as mention his name ever again. So technically speaking, Em, you shouldn't even be talking, let alone thinking about that controlling fuck face right now."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, 'cause it's just that simple." Now that I think about, she shouldn't really be considered an expert on relationships either seeing as Maris, like Courtney, has never really had an honest-to-God boyfriend before. Just random hook ups with even more random older dudes at parties.

"Maris, when I want good advice about cheer leading or how to expertly fuck the brains out of a married man more than twice my age or maybe how to straighten my hair without completely frying it, I'll come to you okay? But I'm not going to take romantic advice from someone who gets the majority of their Boy-On-Maris action from men who are old enough to be their dad."

"I just think it's time for you to get over the guy." Courtney says, ignoring my jab at Maris and tossing the lip gloss back into her bag before turning and checking out her leather-clad ass in the mirror. Ew. "And doing random crap with your hair isn't going to help the healing process, you know? I think you should just, like, totally forget about him. Cut your losses or whatever. Move on. 'Cause you don't want him to move on before you do 'cause then you'll be all like ohmigod, I haven't moved on yet and he has. And then you'll have to see him with another chick all the time which is gonna be, like, a total bitch. So I think you should just find someone else. Someone whose gonna make you happy, and who'll make you forget all about Jason, even if the guy is just a temp or a rebound. Someone whose not gonna make you dye your hair blonde or force you to have sex 'cause, like, sex is supposed to be this big thing, right? Well, for your first time anyway. I mean, people always say you're supposed to be in love with the person you lose your v-card to and that if they legit love you, then they'll wait and not pressure you and whatever. Sorry, but I don't think Jason really loved you as much as he said he did 'cause if he did he would've waited for you, you know?" She pauses for a second and takes her kohl rimmed eyes off the mirror, away from admiring her ass and says "Was I just, like, totally profound or what?"

I hate to admit it, but I think Courtney may just be onto something. Jason told me he loved me but you don't tell someone that and then tell them that they should start wearing tighter shirts and dye their hair blonde to look hot like their best friends or that they should read a book or something to learn or they should watch porn so they would understand how to give a proper blow job. Courtney's right. I should move on.

"I think you're right." I say slowly. I notice Maris' newly waxed eye brows shoot up in disbelief, as if I actually just admitted that Courtney was right about something. Shocker. "I should move on. I mean, I shouldn't be wasting my time thinking about someone who doesn't give a shit about me, right? That's it. I'm officially finished with Jason."

"'Kay, so it's cool if I go out with him this Friday? 'Cause he asked me if I wanted to see that new Johnny Depp movie with him." Courtney says, casually glancing down at her perfectly manicured nails.

My mouth is still hanging open when she looks back up at me. I can't. Fucking. Speak.

"I take that as a yes." she says, smiling sweetly at my horrified expression.

Just then, as if on cue, the bell rings.

"Oh there's the bell" -as if we already didn't fucking know -"Better get to class. Later, bitches."

All I can do is watch dumbly, jaw still almost hitting the floor, as Courtney turns on the heel of her ugly pink pump and does her Courtney strut right out the bathroom door and into the bustling hall way, her massive bag banging erratically against her leg. Two weeks, three days and twenty-two hours later and he's already with someone else. That someone being Courtney, of all people,

And just as I think fucking skank, Maris says those exact words.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I'm still reeling from Courtney's little revelation about her Friday night date with Jason as I make my way from the second floor Girl's bathroom down to the first floor chemistry lab. By the time I reach the first floor, I've already thought up another pro to officially quitting the cheer leading squad; I don't have to put up with Courtney during after school hours anymore. She's Maris' problem now, not mine.

Screw it, I should just go ahead with that restraining order after all. I mean, the chick totally violated the whole "Chicks before dicks"/"Friends don't date friends ex's" girl code. She deserves to be exiled from me and Maris' Twoness for good, exiled to social Siberia for all eternity and beyond (or at least til the end of high school). I am so pissed off right now that I honestly feel like killing something. Yes, I am just that sadistic.

By the time I walk into class, I am able to think up yet another plus side to going through with quitting the squad; no more cheer leading practice three times a week after school. Well that, and knowing that my presence would no longer be required at football games. I would no longer be forced to cheer on my Man-Skank ex-boyfriend against my will. That was comforting.

The chem. lab is brightly lit and air-conditioned, even though it's the middle of February. The room is medium sized, with a dozen or so chrome, black hard-top lab benches placed in rows of three. An imposingly tall, balding man sits at a large, immaculately clean desk at the front of the class room. Mr. Greene.

Here's what you should probably know about Mr. Greene. He stands maybe six foot five in his oversized loafers, is a die-hard devotee of odd colored ties and is intimidating as fuck. Mr. Greene is infamous for being a total hard ass. I mean, this is the guy who threw a kid's binder out the window last year because he only had six dividers instead of seven.

I take a seat at a lab bench at the very back of the classroom. Just as I'm settling into my seat who should walk into the classroom but Jason.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Of course, I knew that there was absolutely no chance in hell that I'd be able to go on avoiding him forever but come on. Like I really want to see my ex boyfriend first thing every single morning (excluding weekends and statuary holidays) for the next five and a half months until graduation.

And then I see - oh God no - that he's not alone, that he's walking into class with Courtney trailing right behind him. As if the bitch is smart enough to be taking a university level Chemistry class.

They take one of the lab benches at the very front of the class room, coincidently or not, as far from where I'm sitting as possible. I see Courtney tilt her fake blonde head towards his light brown one and watch as she whispers something in his ear. Jason turns around in his seat and just as I start praying "Please, please don't see me", his brown eyes lock with mine. He cant fake surprise at seeing me here because we both knew we would be taking the same chemistry class second semester but the look on his face is that of complete shock; up go the eye brows and down goes the chin, his mouth wide and gaping.

Why is he looking me like that? What did I - ?

Oh. Right.

The hair.

Even with his perfectly sculpted jaw stretched in obvious astonishment, Jason is still able to look amazing. Kind of like how someone would look if Abercrombie and Fitch started making people instead of clothes.

When someone breaks up with you, their beauty - which you took such satisfaction in - suddenly becomes totally unfair. It's like that with Jason right now. Jason, with his perfectly gelled hair, warm brown eyes and steroid infused muscle.

The only thing saving me from giving into the impulse to bang my head senselessly against the black hard top lab bench is the fact that second bell has rung, announcing class is in session and Mr. Greene is free to begin putting us through mind numbing torture.

"Okay. Settle down, settle down."

A gaggle of girls near the front of the class giggle. Mr. Greene clears his throat for attention and the girls fall silent.

"Alright, listen up, people, and listen well. As some of you may know from last year, my name is Mr. Greene. I'm going to be your chemistry teacher from the beginning of today, to the last day before finals, which is exactly five months, twenty eight days and twenty one hours away starting precisely now. But before we get into the main swing of things, I'm going to make something very clear to all of you; I am your teacher. I am not your boyfriend or your girlfriend or your therapist. I am not your mother or your hugger. If you're having a bad day, do not take it out in my class - find a ledge or deal with it. Do your work, come to class on time and you will be rewarded. If you slack off during class time, do not to do your work or hand in assignments late, you will not pass this course and I can guarantee you will not be among your peers at graduation in June. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone is deathly quiet. That is, until I hear Heather Summers whisper a little too loudly, "Um, did he just, like, tell us to go find a ledge to jump off of?"

"Out. Now." Mr. Green stabs a finger from Heather to the door indicating that she better get her ass out of his class room. And fast. A red faced Heather hastily stands up and gracelessly maneuvers herself around the rows of lab benches to the door. It closes with a bang as soon as she steps outside.

Ignoring Heather's loud exit, Mr. Greene folds his arms in front of his chest and leans against his immaculate desk.

"Now there is the matter of your lab partners. This year, I've decided to do something a little different. Shake things up a little, if you will. Instead of having you choose your own lab partners this semester, I've decided to put you into pairs according to how I see fit. Today, with your new partner you will begin the first lab of the course."

Mr. Greene ignores the sighs and groans of his students.

"I've already taken the liberty of making the partners myself. As I call out the names, please go sit with your designated partner in an orderly fashion; Alexandra Kemp and Michael Johnson, Paige Tilney and Tanya Horning, Sarah Carty and Kevin Clarence, Jason Peirce and Zach Wilson - " I cringe as Jason gets up and -completely avoiding my gaze - heads for the lab bench exactly diagonal from mine to sit next to Zach.

Mr. Greene continues to list off the lab partners.

"Kelly Lawson and Tanner Morgan, Leanne Jenkins and Clara Reed, Emma Anderson and Courtney Dejardin- "

Okay. Um. Question: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, MR. GREEN?

There are some, like, thirty people in the classroom, right? So out of THIRTY- SOMETHING people, I have to get paired up with boyfriend stealing Courtney? Are you for serious, Mr. Greene? Somebody shoot me. Somebody please, please shoot me.

The second her name is called, Courtney comes sashaying to the back of the classroom towards my lab bench, long blonde hair swinging, leather clad butt wiggling. She dumps her books and large leopard print purse on the lab bench before daintily sliding onto the stool next to mine.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder in one perfectly fluid motion and this really strong wave of perfume hits me. I think Courtney must marinate herself in Chanel no. 19 which, by the way, in large doses smells totally vile.

She turns to me.

"So, like, you're not mad at me about the whole Jason thing are you? 'Cause, like, you totally said you were over him in the bathroom."

Did she seriously just say what I think she just said? I think the fumes from her perfume are making me delusional.

"What?"

Courtney rolls her eyes.

"Are you mad at me for the whole Jason thing?" she repeats slowly, like I'm mentally retarded.

She's joking right? She has to be joking.

"What the hell do you think?" I hiss a little too loudly just as Mr. Green finishes announcing the lab partners and moves onto covering the course outline. I know I should probably be paying attention but I am too busy trying to think of a way I can kill Courtney without interrupting Mr. Greene or accidentally getting her blood on the newly waxed floor.

"Problem back there, ladies?" Mr. Greene asks suddenly, looking annoyed.

"No, sir." Courtney and I say at the exact same time which would've been funny except for it's totally not.

Satisfied, Mr. Greene shifts his attention back to reading over the course outline with the rest of the class.

Once she's sure that Mr. Green has moved on, Courtney turns back to me.

"I don't know why you could possibly be mad at me, Emma." she says in this totally obnoxious way. She knows I hate it when people call me Emma. "You said, like, ten minutes ago you were over Jason. What, were you, like, lying or something?" the question is punctured by the sound of her snapping her gum at me.

I am just barely able to control myself from smacking the piece of Bubblicious right out of her mouth as I whisper furiously "Courtney, we broke up only three weeks ago. Of course I'm not over him."

She just shrugs as if to say, Whatever.

"So? C'mon, Em. Three whole weeks and your still not over the guy? It took him, like, less than half of that to get over you. I mean, it was only what? Six or something days after you guys broke up that me and him did it. Which is like so totally early I know but I really think me and Jason have this, like, total connection or something. I mean I told him that I thought we-"

Oh my God. Oh. My. God.

Okay, let's back up a minute.

Did Courtney just say her and Jason did it?

As in Courtney and Jason did it?

Like, as in Courtney and Jason had SEX? TOGETHER? Like with EACH OTHER?

Shit just got very, very real.

I cant help it. I completely and utterly lose it.

"YOU DID WHAT?" I say in this really loud voice, standing up so fast I knock over my lab stool. Which, okay, I admit is some pretty Gossip Girl-esque behavior. I just barely notice that everyone has turned around and are now staring at me. But I'm too caught up in the fact that Jason and Courtney did it. Ew! I don't know whether to run or throw up or murder Courtney and Jason simultaneously in front of Mr. Greene's entire chem class.

Courtney goes bright red and for the first time ever is completely speechless.

"I…um…well…uh…"

"Ms. Anderson, control yourself!" I hear Mr. Greene order somewhere in the background but I'm still not fully registering what's going on around me. Instead I say something that could quiet possibly have surfaced on a Gossip Girl script:

"HOW COULD YOU, YOU SOUL SUCKING WHORE!"

Okay, I realize that was not exactly my best line for but c'mon. Gimme a break. I just found out my arch nemesis took my ex boyfriend of three week's virginity after we'd only been broken up for a grand total of six days. You try keeping your cool in a situation like this.

"Anderson. Mr. Struthers' office. Now!" Mr. Greene barks. I don't know why but I suddenly get this random image of Captain Pickard from Star Trek: The Next Generation in my head. Only I don't think Captain Pickard ever ordered somebody to go to the principal's office for having a slight meltdown right in the middle of class.

I throw a shocked Courtney quite possibly my dirtiest look before getting up and heading for the door, scarily aware that everybody is staring at me in this really awkward way. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It's not until I'm out the door that the crushing silence is broken by Heather Summers who's still in exile from Mr. Greene's. She's slumped against the wall beside the door, texting away on her phone in one hand while absent mindedly twirling a strand of her carrot colored hair in the other when she asks me - without even glancing up from her cell; "So, can I, like, go back in now or what?"

Chapter Four

Well I guess it's official now. I, Emma Anderson, am a juvenile delinquent. Okay, well not really but you get the point. I mean, I've never really yelled at anybody like that before. And I've definitely never called anybody a soul sucking whore before either. Maybe it's the hair.

Anyway, I can't really blame Mr. Greene for sending me to the principal's office. Although, maybe if he knew why exactly why I'd called Courtney Dejardin a soul sucking whore in front of his entire senior chem class he would've given me a little sympathy. Wait, what am I thinking? Of course he wouldn't have. He probably would have been like "Ew, I so don't need to know that Courtney and Jason have done it. TMI much." Only, you know, in Mr. Greene speak. And he probably would have given me a lecture about how that that is absolutely no legit reason to call someone a soul sucking whore.

I seriously hope I don't get suspended or anything. Though it's not like I'm not going to be able to get into university ( if I even decide to go to university, that is) just because I was suspended for one day in the last semester of my last year of high school. I'm just scared Mom and Dad will murder me when they find out what I did…

I'm silently praying as I sit here in the school's main office outside of Principal Struthers' room that he'll let me off easy. It was already bad enough that I had to walk in here and tell Ms. Peabody the secretary what had happened and how Mr. Greene had sent me down here to be disciplined. And she looked totally surprised too. I mean, I've never ever in all the four years I've attended West Promise High been sent to Mr. Struthers office. Never. Then again she could've just been a little freaked out because of my new haircut and dye job. Or maybe it's simply just a combination of the two.

I notice she's still watching me from her desk. I'm trying really hard to avoid her gaze; studying the orange and green flecked carpet, the front desk, the really crappy art work on the yellow walls. I seriously wish she's stop looking at me like that.

Thank God Mr. Struthers' office door suddenly opens and Mrs. Peabody is forced to look away from me…

"Ms. Anderson?"

I cringe at Mr. Struthers' cutting British accent.

Slowly, I stand from the chair and walk towards the office door which he is holding wide open for me.

"Have a seat." he says, indicating towards the wooden backed chair positioned on the other side of his desk, directly across from his.

Mr. Struthers' office is really clean. It smells of disinfectant and lemon Pledge. His desk is as uncluttered and organized as Mr. Greene's. Even Mr. Struthers' himself is impossibly clean looking. His suit his neatly pressed and tailored and I'm only just now realizing that he kind of looks like a suited up Mr. Clean (haha get it? Also 'cause he's so clean?… Whatever, bad joke). Over all, he looks very, very intimidating.

"So what's this I hear about you calling Ms. Dejardin a…what was it? A soul sucking whore?" he asks, taking a seat in his big leather chair.

"Um, yes, sir." I say quietly, wincing.

Mr. Struthers' frowns. He leans across the desk and folds his big hands together, watching me intently. "And why did you do that, Ms. Anderson?"

"Because the bitch stole my ex boyfriends virginity after we'd been broken up for only six days. Six days!" I want to yell. But I don't because how uncool would that be?

"Um, I don't know?" I say meekly.

Mr. Struthers' frown depends, making the wrinkles on his forehead even more noticeable. I count them. One, two, three, four, five, six…

"You mean you don't know why you did it or you simply don't want to tell me?"

"I, um, don't…uh…know." I say slowly.

Mr. Clean, I mean, Mr. Struthers, clears his throat.

"Emma, I think you know exactly why you called Ms. Dejardin what you called her. And I have to admit I am extremely surprised by your choice of behavior. I never expected you'd be sent to my office. I haven't seen a member of the Anderson clan in here since Jacob graduated two years ago. By the way, how is Jacob?" Mr. Struthers' asks.

""Er, well, you know…he's fine." He is. You know, despite being a lazy, unmotivated, smart mouth university drop out. "Couldn't be better."

Mr. Struthers looks at me in this really sympathetic way and I stare down at my hands.

"Emma, you're not acting like this because of what happened with Jason, are you? This isn't some sort of attempt to lash out after repressing your feelings about this situation between you two, is it? Did you feel like you had to vent your frustration by using that language towards Ms. Dejardin? Because you know you didn't have to do that. There are healthy, productive ways you can sort out your feelings, Emma. Our counseling department is always available -"

Um okay. So apparently Mr. Struthers knows about me and Jason.

Question: How the hell does he know that?

I can tell he knows exactly what I'm thinking because he says in this really matter of fact way,

"I'm not blind or deaf to these things, Emma. I'm well aware of you students and your- what do you call it again? Social networking and what not. And I catch a few snatches of student gossip now and then in the hallways." he pauses before adding, "And I ran into your mother at Ken's Grocer last weekend."

Oh my God. Somebody shoot me. Somebody please shoot me. Or at least shoot my Mom for telling the principal (the principal!) that Jason dumped me. My God, why don't they just bulldoze this whole stupid town? Only in Promise would your mom and your principal run into each other in the grocery store and discuss your personal life.

But what's even worse is that Mr. Struthers thinks I did stupid crap with my hair and called Courtney a soul sucking whore because he thinks I was venting some pent up feelings about the whole break up with Jason.

It's official. The man knows too much. I think I may have to have him assassinated.

Then again… isn't it so much safer to admit to that instead of - you know- going into details about it? Because no offence or anything but I seriously doubt he'd understand the full story. And let's be honest here. Do I really want to have to tell him that Courtney and Jason had - ew - sex, and that that's the real reason I went ape shit on Courtney? Uh, I think not.

"Yes, sir, that's exactly it." I mutter. "Because of the break up."

Mr. Struthers's sits back in his chair and looks at me in this really concerned way.

"You know, Ms. Anderson, I am going to have to give you a day's suspension for calling Courtney Dejardin that word," - clearly he doesn't want to have to repeat the word twat in front of me - "and for causing such a disturbing episode in Mr. Greene's chemistry class."

I nod, secretly reeling from the fact that I'm actually being suspended. ME! Emma Anderson! What is happening to me? I mean, I used to be such a good kid. I don't smoke or do drugs or have unprotected sex (then again, you kind of have to actually be having sex in the first place in order to have unprotected sex). Hell, I've never even broken my 12:00 curfew.

I'm turning into Miley Cyrus.

"-And I highly recommend you seek some help from the guidance counselors here at West Promise, Emma." Mr. Struthers' continues. "So we can sort out this little phase you're going through and perhaps we can work out why you feel the way you do about the, um, break up."

I don't say anything, just continue to stare down at my hands.

"And I would like for you to formerly apologize to Ms. Dejardin."

My head shoots up at that.

"No. Way." I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"I beg your pardon, Emma?" Mr. Struthers asks, eyebrows shooting up like two very startled caterpillars (not that I would know what a startled caterpillar looks like but that's beside the point).

"I won't apologize." I say, and I realize my heart has started to beat scarily fast.

I don't want to make Mr. Struthers' mad or anything especially since he's being kind of cool about this whole me calling Courtney a twat thing by only give me a one day's suspension but still. There is no way in hell I am apologizing to Courtney. If anyone here should be doing some apologizing it's totally Courtney for stealing my boyfriend. But Mr. Struthers' doesn't know about that now then does he?

But Mr. Struthers' doesn't look mad. Just still really concerned. I guess that's how educators are supposed to look. Concerned about you.

"Well, I strongly urge you to reconsider that decision, Emma. While I can't force you to apologize for your strong use of language towards Courtney, I would greatly appreciate it if you would be at least civil towards her in the future. I don't want to hear about anymore outbursts like the kind you demonstrated today, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now your suspension will begin tomorrow and I expect to see you back at school Thursday."

"Yes, sir." I say again, getting the feeling we're about to wrap up here.

"I'll write you a note to give to your second period teacher to excuse your lateness." He says, taking out a notepad and pen and scribbling something on it before ripping it out, folding it in half and handing it to me.

"And if you'd ever like to talk about the situation with you and Jason Peirce my door is always open. I understand it must be hard to have your heart broken at such a young age..."

"Yes, sir." I say automatically while desperately praying that a giant ass hole will open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole.

"Have yourself a good day, Ms. Anderson."


	4. Chapter 4

By lunch time everyone - and I mean everyone - had heard about the whole Emma Anderson-Called-Courtney Dejardin-A-Soul Sucking Whore-In- Front-of- Mr. Greene's-Chem.-Class deal. Only the story had changed a little bit from the original version…

"Is it true you stood up in the middle if Mr. Green's chem. class and hit Courtney over the head with a lab stool?" Tory Castle asked me during second period English.

After fourth period art class Perry Dean came up to me and asked "Why did you head butt Courtney Dejardin and flip Mr. Greene the bird in first period?" In gym I overheard Lara Carter whisper to Dina Boscowitz; "Did you hear that Emma Anderson called Courtney Dejardin a bitch and then shoved her down the second floor stairwell?"

It honestly worries me how information circulates at this school.

You know what? I think I've learned a little lesson from all of this. If you want to become the most popular girl in school, just have a total meltdown in the middle of one of your classes and call some chick a soul sucking whore. Seriously. I don't think I'd ever gotten so much attention in my entire life - not even after I barfed up my bologna sandwich on Danny Hertz in grade 3.

Lunch was worse. "Em, why the hell did you stab Courtney in the eye with a pen and call her a backstabbing slut?" Maris just about screamed at me in the cafeteria line. Everybody in line turned and stared at me before beginning to whisper to themselves in this really embarrassing way.

And if you think that's bad, imagine what it was like when I accidentally bumped into Jason and Courtney in the hall way after school. I swear you'd think I'd suddenly contacted a full blown case of crabs or something. Courtney was clinging to Jason in this really pathetic way as they passed me, both completely avoiding my gaze like they were afraid that if they suddenly made eye contact with me, I was going to go all Charlie Sheen on them or something. The whole entire time all I could think about was that they had…you know…done it. After only six days of me and Jason being broken up. I mean, WTF, right? Who does that?

So I'm walking home from school and I'm kind of regretting what I did to Courtney. Not enough to apologize to her but enough to realize that maybe deciding to call Courtney a soul sucking whore in front of Mr. Green's class wasn't exactly the best decision I've ever made. And now I'm starting to think that maybe God is trying to point that out to me too because it suddenly starts raining really hard - which is totally weird 'cause when I left school and started home it wasn't exactly sunny out but it didn't look like it was going to randomly start pouring rain either. I'm seriously starting to get soaked through and I've only been walking for ten of the twenty minutes it usually takes me to make it home. I bet if Jake were here he would say I look like a drowned lesbian or something what with my newly dyed hair sticking to my scalp in a really unattractive way, not to mention that my "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt is all soaked now and clinging to my body. The plan was that I was going to take my sweet old time getting home so I could buy myself some time to think of a way to break the news to Mom and Dad that I've been suspended. But I guess I'm going to have to decide fast since I've broken into a jog now to avoid getting even more soaked.

I reach the driveway a lot sooner than I'd originally planned and I still have not the slightest idea what I'm going to tell Mom or Dad. I notice that the cows in the field beside the road are staring at me as I jog up the drive. They're probably thinking I look like an even bigger idiot than I think I do right now.

I pass the weathered old red and white barn and make a run for the red brick farm house, leaping over pot holes and puddles as I go. I reach the covered front porch and pry open the screened door. It creaks ominously on its rusted hinges. Dad's been promising to fix that for years. Just like he's been promising to clean up the barn, get new shingles for the house and build Skeeter - our obese border collie - a new dog house. Dad's good at making promises he can't keep.

Once inside where it's warm and dry, I dump my shoulder bag on the mud room floor and kick off my soaked converse. Hearing the door open, Skeeter lazily waddles out of the den and into the front hall to greet me. Skeeter's so over weight he has to waddle everywhere. He can't be bothered to run like most dogs.

I ignore Skeeter who's started sniffing my hands, hopeful for a treat. You know, 'cause apparently he can't simply be happy to see me. There always has to be food involved. Disappointed that I'm empty handed, he turns around and waddles back into the den.

"Em, is that you?' Mom calls from the kitchen

"Yeah, Mom."

She's just putting a casserole into the oven when I walk in.

"What's up?"

"Hmmm? Oh nothing I just wanted to know how your day was." she says all casual, closing the oven door and straightening up before turning to me.

"Um it was okay." I say slowly not exactly sure how I'm going to be able to break it to her that I got suspended today.

"You know. The usual -"

"Then would you mind explaining to me why I received a call from Mr. Struthers' today telling me that my daughter has been suspended for calling Courtney Dejardin a - what was it again? Oh yes. A soul sucking whore - in Mr. Greene's chemistry class this morning." she snaps, folding her arms in front of her chest.

Oh crap. Oh craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

"I um, well, -" I take a deep breathe. "Mom, I I understand that you're probably really disappointed in me right now but it wasn't my fault 'cause I was just sitting there and Courtney was all why aren't you over Jason 'cause Jason's over you 'cause me and him are together now even though you guys have only been broken up for, like, three weeks, and then she was like by the way I slept with him and of course I was really, really pissed, right, so um…then I… uh calledherasoulsuckingwhore." I blurt out in one breath.

Mom frowns. "You what?"

"AND THEN I CALLED HER A SOUL SUCKING WHORE!" I practically shout, just as Jake comes walking into the kitchen.

"Whoa." he says, lifting up his hands and takes a step back.

But Mom ignores him. Instead she takes off the oven mitts off and crosses her arms tightly in front of her chest. "So let me get this straight. Courtney is with Jason now? That's why you called her - um - that word?"

I nod, feeling myself turn red, not exactly ready to repeat the whole Courtney and Jason having sex part.

"Whoa." Jake says again. "You called some chick a soul sucking whore?" He goes to give me a high five. "Way to go, Em."

"Jacob." Mom snaps at him. "Don't you use that word under my roof, you understand?"

She turns back to me. She doesn't look disappointed anymore. Just really concerned like Mr. Struthers.

"Em, are you okay? This just isn't like you. Quite frankly, your father and I are a little worried."

"I'm fine, Mom." my eyes start to roll on their own but now that I realize I'm doing it, I exaggerate it, just for the effect. I'm seriously starting to get sick of everyone worrying about me or pitying me or whatever. First Principal Struthers and now Mom.

"I hope so, Emma. But I really didn't expect this sort of extreme behavior from you. Jake maybe. But not you."

"Hey!"

Mom and I ignore Jake.

"You mean like what I did to my hair?"

"Well, yes, that's one thing and now this little incident with Courtney -"

Oh please. "It's just hair!" I say in my most mean and hurtful tone. "And it's my hair."

Mom takes a deep breath before saying, "I think we should talk about Jason."

"No. Way." I go to leave the kitchen

"Emma, I'm just trying to help you. I mean, first with the hair, and then the suspension. And then you've been acting like, like…"

"Like a total bitch."

"Jacob, don't swear!" Mom snaps.

"Oh, c'mon, Mom. Bitch is hardly a swear." Jake says, rolling his eyes at Mom.

That's it. I'm so not getting involved in this right now. I continue heading for the door way.

"Emma, get back here! We need to talk about this."

"No!"

But Mom is on a rescue mission now. There's no way she's about to give up without a fight.

"You're upset and that's completely understandable, honey! But you're taking this really hard and there are things you can do to help yourself move on."

Oh, please.

"Yeah. You can become a lesbian. You sure look like one. "

"Jacob!"

"What?"

Before Mom can stop me, I make a run for it. I grab my bag from the front hall and head straight up to my bed room stomping my feet up the stairs as I go. As soon as I reach my bedroom, I slam the door shut behind me. Right then I decide I'm never going to leave my room again. EVER.


	5. Chapter 5

So I'm sitting in my room an hour slogging away through my English homework. For serious. Homework on the very first day of semester.

Oi vai…

Anyway, so I'm sitting here working on my very first English assignment of the new semester: Write a 500 word essay describing yourself, your dreams and your aspirations. Is Ms. Feleki shitting me? I mean, what grade are we in? Two? I don't have any dreams or aspirations. Any dreams or aspirations I had went down the tubes along with me and Jason's failed relationship. And even then I'm not entirely sure they were my dreams and aspirations…just the ones Jason handed out to me.

It's just so funny 'cause right when I'm thinking about that mind fuck ex boyfriend of mine, my cell phone goes off. There's nothing like the sound of Homer Simpson singing the Mexican Hat song to bring you back to cold hard reality.

"I dance, I dance, I dance, around the Mexican hat. I dance, and I dance, and that's the end of that or is it just the song that I'm singing, my phone appears to be ring-"

"Hello?" I say, snapping my phone open.

"Uh, Em? It's Jason."

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Okay. Okay. Deep breathes. Just calm down. Be cool.

"Who?"

Holy shit squared! I didn't know my voice could go that high.

"Um, it's Jason. Jason Peirce. Your ex boyfriend."

Jason. As in my man skank, slut magnet, jerk off ex boyfriend. Right.

"Oh. Hi." I say slowly, like the total idiot I am. "What's up?"

There's this long pause on the other end. I almost think he's hung up on me or something when he suddenly goes, "Look, Em, I'm gonna get straight to the point here. I'm calling you 'cause I think we should talk about what happened in Mr. G's chem class today."

Oh no. No, no. No. No, no, no, NOOOOO!

He's calling to bitch me out for calling Courtney a soul sucking whore. Great. This is just great.

And then I get quite possibly the stupidest thought that's ever entered my mind: I can deny it.

"Uh, no I didn't."

"Em - "

"I was framed." I blurt out. "Courtney's lying. I mean, c'mon, can you really see me having a complete melt down and calling someone a soul sucking whore? That's totally unlike me, right? I mean, I'm kind of more cavalier than that, you know?" I give a little nervous laugh. "Like, as if I would - "

"Em." Jason says sharply. "I was there, remember?"

Oh, shit.

He had been there, hadn't he? I mean, how could I have forgotten? He had been sitting exactly diagonal from me the whole time, from God's sake.

"Oh. Umm, right."

"Yeah…"

There's an awkward silence and then he says, "Look, I don't know what exactly Courtney said to you, Em, but I really don't think that what you said to her was exactly -"

"She said you and her had sex!" I blurt out.

Bravo, Em. Brav-oooooooo.

"Huh?"

Oh God. Oh God. OH GOD!

"Um, she kind of, sort of said that you guys had, um, well you know….you guys uh, did it."

There, I've said it.

"What?" Jason asks. I can hear the confusion and denial in his voice when he says "No we didn't."

"Jason, she said that you guys were totally seeing each other and you asked her out on Friday and you guys had sex after we'd only been broken up for, like six days, and then she was like- "

"Whoa. Back up." He says. "I'm not seeing Courtney. And I never asked her out. And I can definitely say we've never had sex, either."

"Oh." I say kind of quietly. "Just 'cause she told me that you guys did so of course I just naturally assumed - "

"Well, I'm telling you right now that she was lying." He says a little too fast.

"Um. Okay."

There's another awkward pause.

Jason probably thinks I'm some kind of crazy psycho bitch now. Then again, I kind of already thought he thought that after the whole me calling Courtney a soul sucking whore thing.

He lets out this ginormous sigh that makes the phone go all crackly. "Look, Em, I really want to apologize for how things have been between us lately." he says finally. "I really think we should talk about this…I mean, us….in person. I feel awful about what happened three weeks ago. And the truth is, I…well,…I really miss you, Em."

No.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Um, I miss you too." I say kind of awkwardly.

I mean, we can't be having this conversation. We just can't be. I'm probably imagining it. Those fumes from Courtney's perfume this morning must've been a lot stronger than I thought.

"I don't think we should be having this conversation over the phone. I think we should talk in person. I want to see you in person, Em. Is that okay?"

I open my mouth. Close it again. Nothing is coming out. Oh great, I've turned into Helen fucking Keller. As if I just literally forgot how to speak.

"Em? You there?"

Finally, after what seems like forever, I am somehow able to manage "Uh, yeah. Sure, that's okay."

"Good. So…d' you maybe wanna meet up for dinner?"

"Um when?"

"Tonight.

Tonight? Is he joking?

I glance at my alarm clock. It's almost five o'clock. My head starts to spin a little faster and I put my head down on my desk. The cool smooth wood feels really nice against my cheek.

"Is that okay with you, Em?"

No. No it's not okay. It's so not okay. I mean, it's the exact opposite of okay.

I still look like a drowned lesbian, I highly doubt Mom and Dad are going to let me go out tonight considering the whole suspension thing and I am in absolutely in no stable mental condition to be in public.

"Yep. Sure. Sounds great."

I can hear the smile in Jason's voice when he says "Great. I'll meet you at Chez Paolo's at around 6?"

Chez Paolo's is, like, the most stupidly expensive restaurant in town. In the whole ten months me and Jason dated, he never once took me to Chez Paolo's.

"Sure." I say, and for the first time all day, and maybe even for the first time in three weeks, I realize I'm actually kind of happy. Any thoughts of Jason being a controlling man skank are completely gone.

"Cool. I'll see you at six."

And then just like that, he hangs up without really giving me a proper good bye. But I don't care because I'm going out to dinner with him tonight! I'm going out with Jason tonight! That is, if I can find someway to get around Mom and Dad in what? Less than an hour…


End file.
